Broken Glass
“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”―Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
I took this photo about twenty years ago from inside the ruins of a greenhouse on Mayne Island, on land that was repossessed in 1941 when the Japanese families, part of a vibrant, diverse community, were removed from their homes and interned on the mainland.
As I walked on the land, I felt the crunch of broken glass underfoot and felt haunted by the experience. The only way I could work through the powerful feelings the place evoked was by writing about it. The experience didn’t want to be expressed in a poem, a short, or a novel, and my tenacity led me to a passion for screenwriting. Broken Glass helped me turn bitter into sweet and broken into beautiful. Taking a stained glass course helped inform the story. Blood was let and stitches were had!
A sampling of the stained-glass pieces I made after taking a course as research for the script.
About the time I’d first explored Mayne Island, our family had been blessed with the arrival of my great niece, Keana Aiko. Her names were used in the script. Her paternal grandfather was Japanese, so the poignant piece of history hit home. My daughter has Native American ancestry that was never explored because her father, who’d been adopted, was against it. Part of Del’s character came from that. And my genetic composition was also full of surprises. In Broken Glass, I wanted to explore how we are made up of parts that can make it a challenge to feel whole and the impact of that in family or romantic relationships.
As prose, the story started like this:
“The valley is full of secrets and history and broken glass. I tread cautiously through the ruins of the greenhouses that once belonged to my family. I envision the sweat on my grandfather’s brow as he plants a harvest of tomatoes he won’t reap, my grandmother’s hands covered in dirt from burying family treasures she’s not allowed to keep, my mother’s little hands drawing rainbows as her parents drew maps of hiding places for heirlooms in the double walls of the house and the soil. Now the fields of broken glass call out to me to salvage shards to solder into something beautiful and new, to repurpose their pain.”
About fifteen years passed between the first draft of Broken Glass to its tenth. I can’t say the final one yet! It’s a laurel-winning script that garnered a coveted “recommend” from a script reading company in Los Angeles. So why revise it yet again? And how is it different? Originally, the script began and ended in Morrocco. I’d visited there and thought the exotic locale would “show” my protagonist, Keana, in her glory as a world-traveling, commitment-phobic photojournalist. I knew Canada had a coproduction treaty with Morocco that would negate some of the cost of filming there. However, the logistics of pulling that off were a deterrent to producers who showed an interest. But I wasn’t ready to change the beginning and ending I’d invested in.
I worked hard during the revision process and focussed on increasing the lower marks, but with a solid “recommend,” I didn’t indulge in paying for more coverage.
In the “great between” years, I wrote six more features before taking the scalpel to the bookend of this story. Why? Because it’s a strong story, well told, that deserves to be sold - and seen! I’m rather happy with the results.
Instead of Morocco, I chose Halifax and Cape Breton. The lighthouse there provides a nice echo to the one on Mayne Island. In the story, Keana’s mother took her there to get away from her dad, creating a landscape of parental alienation. My mother had taken me from Ottawa to British Columbia. I almost took my children from here to Prince Edward Island, the farthest I could go to run away from heartache. People under pressure fight, flee, or fawn. Keana came by bolting honestly. Redefining home is about co-creating relationships. As with stained glass work, there are jagged edges that can be safely included within the beautiful whole of a piece, and add beauty.
And now I’ve turned Broken Glass into a completely “Made in Canada” project, one that might be eligible for funding on both sides of the country, and I’m proud of that.
If you’re interested in learning more about the screenplay,
take a look at the new and improved pitch deck on my website: waywardwithapen.com
Feel free to leave a comment!
Verba volant, scripta manent.
Loosely meaning that words fly off the tongue, but writing endures. May mine as well.
